


87. careful is my middle name

by piggy09



Series: The Sestre Daily Drabble Project [25]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Police, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 13:33:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7575877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But what the hell is Sarah supposed to do? Go door-to-door? <em>Hey, you seen a weird Ukrainian? She hasn't committed any major crimes in like a month and a half and I'm having a hard time dealing with it</em>. God no. She'll just sit at her desk and drink her tea with the teabags she's smuggled in from home and not jump every time the scanner goes off. She's <em>fine</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	87. careful is my middle name

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [226\. black coffee](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7524445) by [piggy09](https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09). 



> By POPULAR DEMAND: more cop Sarah and criminal Helena!

It’s been six weeks since the last time anyone from the station arrested Helena Kedzierski.

Which is good news. Great news. Fantastic. Maybe it means she’s turned her life around. Maybe it means she’s – dead in a back alley somewhere. Doesn’t matter! It’s not Sarah’s problem. She has other things to worry about. Actual crimes. Serious crimes, because Sarah is a serious cop, and she doesn’t feel a sharp stab of something like _concern_ every time she passes by the shitty coffeemaker where the precinct gets its shitty coffee and she sees the packets of nasty off-brand sugar and she—

Fuck.

Shit fuck.

She _worries._

But what the hell is Sarah supposed to do? Go door-to-door? _Hey, you seen a weird Ukrainian? She hasn’t committed any major crimes in like a month and a half and I’m having a hard time dealing with it_. God no. She’ll just sit at her desk and drink her tea with the teabags she’s smuggled in from home and not jump every time the scanner goes off. She’s _fine_.

(Okay, alright, she misses her. It’s weird. She knows it’s weird.)

(She wants Helena to come back.)

(She knows she’ll regret that wanting, though. She always does.)

* * *

Sarah’s luck breaks when she comes back from chasing down leads for this latest shitstack of a case to a station full of smug looks.

“What?” she says. Pauses. “ _No_.”

“Sorry,” Beth says, looking nothing of the sort. “Said she’d only talk to _you_. Looks like you’re shit out of luck, Manning.” And she smirks at Sarah, delighted and barely cruel, before sauntering to the donut box and taking the last chocolate sprinkle. Piece of shit. She _knows_ that’s the only donut Sarah likes.

Sarah grits her teeth and heads to the interrogation room. She swallows down the way her lips are twitching at the corners, the way they are – horror of horrors – trying to become a smile. She was _fine_. She is still _fine_.

Helena, meanwhile, beams when Sarah opens the door. She isn’t wearing handcuffs; Sarah blinks at the jarring inconsistency. It’s startling. She almost doesn’t recognize Helena without seeing her hands pinned down.

“Sarah!” Helena says. She’s still smiling, big and bright, and – god, there’s a big bruise on her. Where from? What happened? Sarah sits down, doesn’t ask those questions. She nods at Helena’s cuffless wrists, raises a curious eyebrow.

“Oh!” Helena says. “I am not a criminal.” Pauses. Lets that linger. They stare at each other, and then Helena shrugs and moves on. “I brought presents.”

She rummages in the pockets of her coat and pulls out three Ziploc bags that were _definitely_ lifted from their evidence locker. Somehow. They have the precinct’s logo on them. Sarah should ask, but she’s distracted by their contents.

“Helena,” she says, strangled, “why did you bring me three bloody bags full of cocaine.”

“Have you been eating, Sarah?” Helena says. “You look hungry. You need fruits. And vegetables. I have heard this is good for you.”

“ _Helena_ ,” Sarah says again. Helena sighs, flaps her lips. Pbbppt. “I wanted to see you,” she says. “But you frown when I come in wearing handcuffs. So I think, how do I see Sarah without being a criminal? And then I think what do cops like. And then I watch see-ess-eye, and—”

“ _Where did you get the cocaine_.”

“I stole it,” Helena says. She doesn’t seem concerned by this at all.

Sarah rests her head on the table. She can’t help it. Helena reaches across and pats her on the head, pap-pap.

“Alright,” Sarah says. “Okay. So you – what? Found a _drug dealer_ —”

“Maybe.”

“And you stole cocaine from a _drug dealer_ —”

“ _Maybe_.”

“And you brought me cocaine. Because you still haven’t _bloody_ figured out that I have a _bloody_ desk.”

She can hear Helena sulking in the silence. Oh, god. _Oh_ god. Sarah resists the urge to bang her head against the table a few times, summons all of her strength, and sits up again. “Okay. Okay. We’re gonna need to process this, and you’re gonna need to give a report.”

Helena visibly perks up.

“To Detective Bell.”

Helena droops again.

Sarah sucks in a deep breath through her nose and says with admirable lack of strain: “Helena? Thank you for the cocaine.”

“You are welcome,” Helena says, looking proud of herself. “I can find more. If you want it.”

“No,” Sarah says. “That’s – that’s okay, thanks.” Pauses. “Maybe tell Detective Bell that, yeah?”

Helena nods solemnly. They look at each other for a minute.

“So,” Sarah says awkwardly. “How’ve you been.”


End file.
